


Feeding Your Demons

by Hexlorde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fictober 2019, Gen, Mentions of Famine - Freeform, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 17:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20911337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexlorde/pseuds/Hexlorde
Summary: Crowley knows now that it was a bad idea for him to go near Famine, but in his defence it wasn't like he knew that the Horseman's powers could affect him.Now he's stuck in a Devil's Trap and hungrier than he can ever remember being, all while the Winchester boys yammer away at him.Great. Just great.





	Feeding Your Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fictober Day 5 prompt: "I just might kiss you."
> 
> Warning: Please note that while I don't go into detail, this does deal with Famine and the effect he has on people.

The King of Hell was trapped in a sigil designed to keep him there for all of eternity, which just so happened to be in a house that served as a home base for those idiot Winchester boys, and for all he knew they planned to torture him or exorcise him back to the pits of Hell. So yes, it wouldn’t be an understatement to say that he was pissed off. But even with all that? Even with that dumb little Squirrel coming over every so often to tease and taunt him? That wasn’t the worst part, oh no; the worst part was the hunger.

For the first time in centuries, Crowley was hungry. He growled as he paced around the tiny space that was provided to him, hands clenched at his sides as his stomach tried to match his throat in volume. In hindsight, it had been a stupid idea to track down demons that he knew had sided with Lucifer. It had been too tempting to resist though, those fresh signs of deserters who thought they could make a fool out of him. It wasn’t until he appeared beside one of them that he realized that they were with Famine. The sudden shock of his meatsuit making its needs known had stunned him enough that he had completely missed the Moose’s struggle with the demon blood, and when the ring was taken, and the angel coming back to his senses and teleporting everyone left alive back to Singer’s house.

By the time that he had been able to focus he had been pushed inside the Devil’s Trap and left alone except for the occasional taunt. This wouldn’t have been so bad, except that his stomach still felt like it was twisting itself into knots over the nothingness that filled them. It was robbing him of his focus, his wit, everything, and there was no reprieve. Why couldn’t Famine have targeted something that would be easier to handle, like exacerbating his desire to kill the scum that served him?

And here came the whole group, angel and all, as they shuffled in to stare at him. He couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to them, or at least not until he caught “-willing to make a bargain” thrown somewhere in the mix.

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that,” he said, suddenly looking over at them. The four men looked at each other with uncertainty, and Crowley almost growled again when he saw the silent conversation passing between them. “Oh come on, I wasn’t paying attention to your little babbling before and now I am! I’m assuming that you want something from me, so why don’t you just damn well repeat yourself?”

Sam gave him an odd look, but he did say “We were saying that we want you to help us get the ring from Pestilence, and since it’s been your demons that have been helping the Horsemen we figured that you could track them.”

Before Crowley could say anything Dean cut in with a sharp “We can find another way though, so you can forget us trading our souls for your help.”

Crowley sighed and said “Well then it’s a good thing that I don’t want your souls then, isn’t it. No, I want…” It was torture, pretending that he was making up his mind about what he wanted, but even in his current state he knew better than to let the hunters know his current weakness. “I want a feast fit for a king. Bring me that and I’m your man.”

The humans all looked surprised, and Singer even made an incredulous noise, but Castiel’s eyes widened and he quickly said “He is experiencing the same effect that I did. His mortal host has not had any more food than mine, therefore being near Famine affected him much the same.”

The demon groaned and said “Oh yeah angel, just spell it all out for the pesky little hunters who normally want my head on a pike why don’t you.” To his ire that only earned him a few chuckles from the humans, and he could have sworn that Dean was about to make some smart assed comment. If that irritating little brat opened his mouth then Crowley was going to strangle him!

Thankfully Singer seemed willing to be the voice of reason, as he stepped in and said “If that’s everything then I don’t see why we shouldn’t. After all, it can’t be any worse than stocking up to feed you two during your growth spurts.”

This worked to quiet the brothers, and their little group left while discussing logistics. Crowley sat down on the floor and tried to ignore the rumbling of his stomach, resigning himself to waiting for them to come back. Maybe they would even bring food with them when they returned.

* * *

Within a few hours the little group (he’s pretty sure he heard one of the brothers say something about “Team Free Will”) is back, and oh boy do they deliver; each one has to be carrying at least three different takeout bags, all of them filling the air with tantalizing aromas. As they’re setting the bags down just inside the Devil’s Trap Sam is saying “We didn’t know what you would want, but whatever you don’t eat-” only to be cut off by Crowley grabbing the first bag and tearing into it.

He doesn’t even know what he eats, only that it tastes like ambrosia as he scarfs it down. He can’t even bring himself to care that he must look like a wild animal with the way that he tears into his food, or that he’s probably making the most embarrassing moans of pleasure as his stomach finally stops feeling empty. When his belly doesn’t feel like it’s been sucked clean by a vacuum anymore he slows down, letting himself savor his food in a way that he hasn’t since he became a demon.

He pauses with a fry halfway to his mouth as he looks up and notices the looks that he’s getting from “Team Free Will.” The brothers both look slightly disgusted, and he notices that both of them have edged away a bit (though considering the way that there are wrappers tossed all around the room that might have very well been a self-preservation instinct). The angle is looking at him with sympathy, while Singer is trying to hold in his amusement. None of them seem inclined to look away though, so Crowley shrugs and returns to his food.

“Damn, and here I thought that Bobby was crazy for saying that you would eat all of that.” Dean’s trying to joke in a paltry effort to ease the discomfort written on his face. Under ordinary circumstances Crowley wouldn’t be bothered by that, but he doesn’t exactly appreciate it when said jokes are at his expense.

So he shoots Singer a look and drawls “Ah, so you’re the reason that your end held up? I’m so happy I might just kiss you for that.” The effect is instantaneous, as both of the brothers groan and the angle shifts uncomfortably. One of them makes a comment about “don’t feed him if you don’t want him to follow you home,” but Singer stays quiet, and Crowley could almost swear that he sees a blush on the elder hunter’s ears. He arches an eyebrow at that as he returns to his food, resolving to poke at that once he’s done. Right now he just wants to keep eating, and he’s not dealing with the consequences of what happened in the past day until he’s full.


End file.
